Martyred
by hArdcOrecArtoonmAniac
Summary: 1 narriates his experiances that molded his flaws, vertues and philosophies.
1. The Scientest

_The "Scientist"_

I would be a liar if I had said I recalled the nothingness that occurred before I came to exist. The world was empty. There was not even blackness. There cannot be thought before life.

My coming to be was sudden and perplexing. Perhaps unfairly so.

When the sand of my hourglass began running, all I recall was noise without vision. Electrical energy ran, making a hum. Echoing clockwork clicking started up and eventually sped into a constant rate. There was another strange sensation that I will have difficulty explaining. It was something like cool running liquid pulsing in and out. I would later be told that this was my life force energy; it is something that exists, but I have yet to see or touch. Apparently, it was something that came from the soul. All the while, I felt my body's temperature began to go up from being cold to what was healthy. I would never experience this peaceful universe of only sound and feeling ever again.

I felt something rough graze my body. A short time later the same thing stuck me. I felt my body sway back and forth from the force. My eyes clicked as a tiny sliver of light shown through. My vision focused as if I were waking from an unfathomable slumber. All that was at first were brightly colored, shifting dots. They came together and I found myself in a disturbingly artificial place. I was in a great wooden box with a sloped top. A barred window was to my right, bringing a dull yellow light where speckles of dust wisped in the air lazily. It was rather pretty in an unsettling way.

My focus on this was sort before I beheld an enormous shape. What before I thought was just a prop in the setting was a living creature. For some reason, I could bring a name to the creature; man. He was by no means an ideal specimen. He man before me was an elder among the species. He appeared long and gaunt and, somehow, disheveled. Of course when I first beheld the seven-times-my-size, who-knows-how-many-times-my-weight man, it was horrifying. What didn't help was that I was strung up by my wrists with my legs dangling below me. My body was hanging down, long and stretched out like some animal's carcass about to be gutted for the flesh. The first thing that came up in my head was to struggle, but it was difficult as my body felt numbed. My legs tingled as if they were both asleep when I tried to move them. The only thing I could do was dilate my eyes and tremble in the wake of the man and he moved in to hold me.

Anything that size could have easily torn my hapless body to pieces if he wanted but I initially started to calm me was the simple fact that he didn't. His roughly textured skin ran on my back and he let my body fall into his palm while the other hand untethered me. As he did this, my body finally aligned with my thoughts and I could move. Just as I began to relax, his hand closed in around me and held me vertical to the ground so my legs dangled again. Though I knew he wasn't going to kill me, at least not yet, I did not like him holding me. How could I trust the man? I couldn't.

I jerked my spine once, turning my head away from the grinning teeth of the man. When I slammed my body in the other direction, I saw his smile had disappeared. I began flailing my legs and tried to wriggle my arms free. When I opened my mouth to let out a cry, nothing came. Feeling my arm start to come loose, I noticed the man said something to me. I was focused on escaping, so I didn't hear it. He let me go on his own accord after a very brief struggle.

My body hit the wooden desk knees first and then the rest my body came down. My optics made a sharp sound as they hit the wood. It hurt. After rolling on my back, I saw the man reaching for me again.

He was saying, "Did I hurt you?"

_You great oaf! You did hurt me! _I snapped in my head where I could not speak it, _So now I do not trust you._

In a bit of a panic to avoid being lifted again, a bumbled to my feet. It was difficult to stand up so I inadvertently started walking away. Trying to look as dignified as I could, I let my stumbling legs bring me a few paces away. I nearly fell again when my foot rolled under an ink quill. After recovering from that, I whipped my head around to give the man a glare.

I was half expecting him to come reaching for me with his big stupid hands, but he was sitting at the desk I stood upon just a-smiling away. That confused me. It was at that point when I started asking myself questions.

He severed my thought before I could begin.

"Go on. Look around at all my things. It is only the very start of the world."

Not knowing what else to do with myself, I started to stroll around his desk. It was rather uncomfortable; that man would not take his eyes off me. I did my best to avoid looking at him. I was interrupted from investigating a standing device with a dome facing toward the door behind me when I heard scribbling. The man was writing madly upon a sheet of paper. I could only guess he was recording my every move. In all his insane enthuse, I could only guess he didn't have the slightest idea I knew exactly what he was doing. He tracked me as I looked at some pens, tacks, clips and other office brick-a-brack: as I walked around some glass bottles and a radio: as I pulled up a small box that contained "cigars" and read a book that was opened somewhat. The page I happened to be looking at was on the roots of what the men called "alchemy."

As I read, my mind drifted. The reading cleared my frightened mind of the hazel eyes of the crazy man. Before I knew it, I was inundated with quandaries. Who am I? What am I? Why did that man tie me up? He did tie me up, didn't he? Why is he watching me and taking notes on me? Am I strange? Am I the only of my kind? Why am I here? Why in an adult body? Do I have a past I forgot?

I felt like my very skin was heavy with questions. I gazed into a mirror, viewing my face for the first time. I found it a bit of a shock that I looked just as thin as the man, maybe even thinner. There was a sort of resemblance between he and I that made me uneasy.

But it couldn't be. Could it?

I looked at the man. He had stopped taking notes on me and was looking at me calmly. My brain was running full power. I awoke in his room: in his arms. I am not a flesh and bone creature: I am made from objects in this room. His knowing look: his enthuse to see me move: his concern over me.

"I know that look. You know, don't you?" Said the man, "You're so intelligent."

He then reached out a hand toward me, "Come here. I'll help you speak."

I hesitated before coming over to him and his clumsy hands. I held my chest up and kept my chin high; I was telling him that I was letting him do this for my benefit and not his amusement. He seemed to understand.

So there I was in the dumb man's hand again. I dreaded it. Some primal instinct in my head was telling me not to go and lie belly-up while the man poked around inside me. It made me look weak but no one was around to see so it was only between he and I (but already that was one person too many). I felt something tickle in my throat and he suddenly put me back on my feet.

After pounding my chest a few times, I let the voice run into my mouth. It scared me at first. It was no human voice; it was gnarled and fuzzed. I swung my head up and tapped my foot, giving the man a look.

He seemed to be at a loss for answers.

"Try again," He offered at last.

I let out a long vowel and my voice began to clear. It was still on its way but I wanted to say what needed to be said, so I crowed out;

"I was not born; I was created. And you created me."

The man appeared to know what I said in spite of my new voice's troubles. He reached over me and plucked the mirror and stood it up in front of me. During the brief time I gazed at myself I continued to piece things together in my head. By a combination of my appearance, what I could make out of my voice and just by how I held myself without thinking, I realized something I did not like. I was aged. But how could that be? I only came into existence minuets ago. But it was so. I was put into an elderly body. I had no chance at ever having a youth. That fact angered me. Did he intend for me to never experience youth? How dare he dictate my life in such a way! Does he not realize the ramifications on the thing he so carelessly gave life to?

Frustrated, I took a breath and let it out on a rough snort.

"You're breathing? That's strange. I didn't put anything like lungs inside you," said the man, apparently noticing.

I looked up at a crinkling sound. The man was holding something small in his hands that I suppose he'd taken from a bowl on a shelf with a few others of the same object. It looked like a small square with some depth. It was not made from wood or metal like the other things in the room. I had trouble bringing up names of objects that were not mechanical. He unwrapped the foil cover to reveal something brown inside. A faint sweet smell hit me that made me, for some reason, want it. I took a step closer, still perplexed about the little brown square's identity.

Appearing to have had a plan in mind all along, the human lowered his hand to my level. He held the square close to my chest, offering it to me. I wanted it, but I didn't know if it was safe.

"Take it. It's chocolate," Said the crazy man.

That name didn't seem like any kind of threatening object so I did take it. My claws left small marks in it. It wasn't completely solid. Being close to it and its smell made me feel strange in an unpleasant way. While I just stood, not having a clue as to what to do with it, the man reached up and over me and took a bit for himself.

"Try eating it."

Then he demonstrated for me by taking his chocolate and putting it in his disgusting human mouth. After swallowing it, he looked down at me expectantly.

But when I tried to eat, the candy hit the back of my mouth. I tried to get it down my nonexistent gullet, but it only hit the back again. Gnawing on it only stuck the brown stuff onto the inside of my mouth. I looked down at it longingly after wiping away what was on my lips.

"I guess not," said the white-coated man as if it were nothing, "It's gone stale anyway."

I couldn't take my eyes off the food. I longed for what I could not enjoy. The fact that I could feel hunger but to nothing to stop it hurt me more than my elderly body.

"Sit."

His voice shattered my thought. I looked up at him defiantly. The man appeared to notice my refusal but continued in a calm manner.

"You might want to. I'm about to tell you everything."

I couldn't help to have my face soften. Everything? I seated myself on a book, unable to resist the curiously that pricked my skin.

He started slowly as if he had no idea where to begin or how to find words for what he needed to say. After his eyes darted around the room for a moment, he reached over me once more and plucked a copper thing from the domed device I was tied to. He held it only a few centimeters front my nose.

"Some time ago, I used this device to give intelligence to a supercomputer robot. I thought by giving it a human brain, it would be able to think. My efforts were successful. This magnificent supercomputer, this artificial intelligence, surpassed my wildest fantasies. It was everything I had come to hope it would be. As I went on experimenting with the machine, I began to believe it might be sentient. It began acting something like a child."

The man showed me pen sketches of a circular computer with a large camera on its front for it to see. It was attached to a stand and had long arms hooked up to it for what I assume were for these "tests" it was given. I almost could feel, only by looking at it, that it was connected to me in some way. It was something like a brother I felt. I reached to touch the drawing, but it was put down.

"I could have never found out," He said darkly, "The independent project was being funded and supported by our State's chancellor. I thought I was working well within my deadline, but one day, while I was giving the machine a few warm up tests for the day, some of his guards entered my station. The Chancellor stood over us and informed me what the machine was going to be put to use posthaste. I tried to tell him that the machine wasn't ready for anything rigorous yet, but his guards prevented me from stopping them. My machine appeared to defend itself, or me, and attacked one of the guards, killing him, before it was taken away."

He took out a clipping from an article. The metal creature that was shown hardly resembled the thing that was drawn. I could just barely see it encapsulated in a metal shell.

"They took my machine and made this. The machine was only weeks away from being ready for such a workload but it was tragically put into use too soon. It was used to devise and create war machines for the Chancellor's invasions on smaller, weaker neighboring countries. I saw a news reel of it in use. They were trying to train it by hooking it up to electrodes. The machine appeared to be in pain. I would hate to think if it were sentient and had to be controlled that way.

"Soon after the wars began, the machine malfunctioned and began to send its war drones out to destroy our forces. With its intelligence, going into the fabrication mill to deactivate it proved impossible because of the unmovable defenses the machine had put in place to protect itself. In what I would only assume was a bout of spite, the Chancellor attempted to turn the State against me as I had designed the machine. He released the film recording of my machine fatally attacking one of his guards when they came to take it away.

"I was forced trust myself with the 'Rebel' movement, a force that opposed the industrializing of our State from the beginning. The other citizens of the country, rattled by the recent war and with a need for comfort in compliancy turned on me and attempted to fight back against the war drones. However, my machine had improved on the chemical structure of the chlorine gas used in warfare. This enhanced strain appears to leave literally nothing alive in its path, or so my Rebel colleges have discovered through research.

"It would appear that the time of men is drawing to an end. And selfishly, we possibly bring with us all life on Earth."

He stopped in what was apparently thought. While he did this, I was given time to digest what he had told me.

So this world, this world I had only yet been given minuets to breathe in, was drawing to close. I had only a very short time to live it, or at least, live it as the men knew it. Taking in my surroundings, the eventful newspapers, the colorful calendar and other upbeat shreds of before the metal and fire times, I realized that I had just barely missed a time of splendor and happiness. My thoughts again turned to this man. Again, I found myself angry that I had missed this time of ease.

"I created you. I am your father. You are the very first of my creations," He said.

_Do I have a name?_

"I imagined you and your brothers and sisters to come for a very specific purpose; you will ensure that life continues after the time of men ends.

"This device was used to bring my human spirit into you and it was used to bring my intelligence to the machine. You are a part of me, small being. You must ensure that you use this device to bring life back. I am currently working my modifying it for just this purpose. The gas being used to wipe us out also appears to be drying out the atmosphere. It appears to be designed to exterminate all living things permanently.

"By collaborating with others in the Rebel movement, I have come upon a hypothesis. The seeds of some plants can last for years and years in a state of dormancy. If it rains, then these seeds with germinate, beginning the world anew. Though, I'm afraid, it might be too late for animal life. However, perhaps this mystic science holds surprises I will not live to see."

Something told me I do not like what he was saying to me. What did all this amount to? Where did I and my unborn kin come in?

"I now know that the spirit works as a kind of energy. Perhaps, mixed with water, it might create the vital burst of power needed that mysteriously created the first microorganisms at the dawn of time."

What was he saying?

"I might have sacrificed myself for this, but my Rebels friends tell me that it would unlikely be enough energy to create life again. My device can only handle expelling souls once. Perhaps if I had distributed it into separate bodies, it would be allowed to grow as you yourself grow as a person. Maybe then it would be enough.

"My first being, you might not like what I have concluded."

I already took a guess; I was needed to die for this power source to get out of my body.

My head jittered as I tried to shake it 'no'. I moved away from the man. I didn't want to die.

"You must eventually give back what gave you life. This device will be able to release your energy to bring new life to the planet once it is full.

"I will not hold anything from you; I do not know if the transfer will be painless and I do not know what will happen to you as an individual being. I remain optimistic."

By the end of his speech, I could do nothing but move away from him in disbelief. I am a human with human feelings and emotions with no human body to satisfy my desires. No tears. No breath. No blood. I was brought to life too late to be able to live contently. Finally, my single purpose is to die forever in what I could assume was a horribly painful way. This man, my selfish father, my blood-god, did not seem to realize how horrible the existence was that he brought to be.

I was angry. I was frightened. I felt I had to say something to the man, but no words could escape me other than, "lair!".

"Lair! Lair! Lair..." I screamed, but my flaring emotions choked me up so my still-dysfunctional voice hardly created the words.

What came out was a monster-like fuzz of static and the muffled voice of an old man. My creator looked taken aback by my fury. The look on his face obviously told me that he didn't know what I was saying, but he appeared as if he realized he made a mistake. But, at that time of rage, his regret was simply not enough for me. For one of the few times in my life, I wished again for the nothingness; for the black curtain to fall on top of me and block my eyes and smother the wind out of me. I did not want to exist.

Both the man and I were shocked out of our confrontation by the door a few feet away slamming open. What stood in the door was yet another man. He was tall, rigid and stern. Something deeper and more primal than my even human mind told me to hide from him. I made a dead sprint for the pile of clutter on the left of the desk. I flattened myself under a book that was opened face down. My body is pale but I must have been in enough shadow not be seen because the frightening man didn't seem to notice my presence.

As I was wheezed for the breath that my paralyzed, panicked body demanded, the tall man made straight for my creator. I saw my creator clutch the pen quill that was close to his hand as he whipped around to face the other man.

"You, scientist!" Crowed the tall man looming over my creator.

I would only ever learn him by that name.

"You've discovered our location," stated the Scientist in an almost defeated manner.

"Your precious Rebels had one or two canaries ready to sing after prodded by our special interrogation methods," answered the scary man flatly.

"You needed a new use for the electrodes you misused on my machine?" the Scientist retorted with sharp wit.

I couldn't help but to admire his cleaver jab while I was hiding.

"At least they were more useful than your silly little movement. Luckily, I've found my own way to make them benefit the State once again. They so generously lent themselves to testing the effects of your machine's toxic gas," Gargled the rough voice of the man.

By the sound of his vocal chords, it appeared he had tasted a fair amount of the toxic gas himself.

"It is my educated guess, sir, that you will never be able to lead your state out of this war."

_Had the Scientist and this man met?_ I asked myself

"I no longer require your services. Consider yourself disowned. I have hired thousands of other geniuses that surpass your capabilities in technology to counter this minor threat."

"That may be so, but you should know by now that technology without heart can be extremely dangerous," The Scientist told him levelly.

"Love doesn't win wars," The other man insisted in a toxic hiss, "And love won't save you from punishment for destroying my State."

"Like it or not, we are hooked together in responsibility for that," he took a breath, "And what do you have to back your threat? Is this personal, Mr. Chancellor? Where are your black arms? Or do you want the pleasure to yourself?"

The tip of the pin glinted in my creator's hands. My stomach sank with a sudden feeling of impending doom.

"You're a cleaver bastard," The Chancellor remarked swinging his arm from a holder in his red belt.

It was a heavy knife with horrible serrated edges and a curved, chiseled end. The weapon temporarily stupefied me with fear. The feeling of disaster felt like it was crushing my skull.

"Such an honor to the State should not be left to an expendable infantryman!"

The Chancellor then swung down at my creator with the terrible blade. I couldn't help but to let out a crackling cry. There was sudden movement of gray and white. Then, my ears rang with an agonized howl.

I repelled the overwhelming desire to run as far away as I could.

The knife was on the ground. It was clean. The tall man has his hands over his face which had blood pouring down. Along with the blood were tiny streams of black.

_What is that black liquid? _

The Scientist moved away from the hollering man. The stern man took his hands away. The sharp point of the pen was stuck in the white of his eye. The brass was more than half shoved into the white-turned-red surface. His reddened eye had blood smeared all around and ran down his eye like face paint and dribbled all over the floor. Ink was beginning the seep into the cut on his eye. Then he looked at the Scientist. The pen moved with the eye as it turned in the swollen socket. That was all I could take before I simply could no longer look.

As I had my eyes closed, feeling sick, there was more yelling. I couldn't pick out any words; the volume rang in my ears becoming only noise. I could tell that the Scientist was certainly winning the battle of yelling. Looking again, I saw the Chancellor fleeing, his hand over his eye.

The crushing feeling of confrontation quickly faded. It was all over. In that time, I completely had forgotten my desire to cease to exist.

The Scientist appeared to be looking for me. Almost as if I were glad to be wanted, I slipped out from under the book. He looked down at me, relived.

"I was afraid you might have run away," Said he, "What if he had found you?"

Why would he ask me that? I certainly didn't want to think about what would happen if that violent man saw me. I assumed men have never seen a creature like me, so how would he react to seeing a sentient pile of junk? He'd what to know how I worked. Shivering, I held one of my belts; I would rather keep my insides on the inside.

"Well, I don't think he'll be coming back now," The Scientist told me, apparently sensing my fear, "It's time for your journey to begin."

Not liking the sound of that, I backed away, shooting him a look.

"You can't stay with me," He whispered, drawing closer, reaching out a hand.

Why not? I whipped my head toward the window. The bad man was out there! And who knows how many of his so-called "black arms" were too. I hated my creator for bringing about my flawed existence, but I would sure as Hell take him over the world outside.

But I had no choice. He snatched me before I could run far away enough. When he got me, I was being held in a strange way. My entire head was in his hand, but everything from my waist down hung out. Not being able to see only clouded my reasoning further and I began struggling like mad. In that position, there was little I could to but flail my legs and burry my claws into his palm. My claws apparently caused him pain and he clutched me tighter. At that point, I felt choked by his grip and my desperate thrashings waned into nothing and I could only lie with my eyes widened and blindly staring.

He was not holding me for long until I heard the muffled sounds of the world beyond. I was released a few human footsteps away from the tall house I had been inside. When my spine was no longer being held in place by the Scientist, I fell over on my side. I was only on the ground for a moment before my intelligence came back and I could stand and stare up at him. He was looking down at me with an unreadable expression.

For that instant, my emotions became very confused. I hated this man for my wretched body and yet, as I stood before him, rejected from seeing him again, I felt heartbroken. How could I feel heartbroken over someone I hated unless somewhere I truly saw him as my father? Yes. Somewhere at the very center of me, I did see him as a father. That is why I walked toward him when he let me go.

When I went too close, he pushed me his arm's length away. Without thinking, I walked toward him again. This time, he nearly shoved me away. I hesitated before taking a step closer. He stopped me when he spoke.

"No."

I took yet another step in defiance.

"No," He ordered in a surprisingly threatening manner, "Go, or I'll hold you so you can't see and drop you where you won't ever be able to find the workshop again."

To me, that almost felt like a death threat. I started to ease away from him. I turned around to look at the world beyond. The streets were empty and the houses appeared empty as well. The whole world was bathed in ugly amber. The walls were plastered with conflicting messages. In the distance, I heard human voices rambling in harmony, almost like a chant. As I took in what was around me, my creator stood and walked away. I heard him pause in front of the door, apparently looking back, and then closed it behind him.

When he was gone and turned my head around. My chest was slowly filling with a ripping pain. I felt rejected. He was on to make my kin. He was on to spend his time on the stronger, quicker and smarter. I wasn't lying to myself; I knew it was true. Although I fully accepted my inadequacy, it still hurt. It still filled my throat and caused my jaw to tremble. It still ate at my heart.

Even when I knew all of this, I still had the will to go on. Not only that, but a powerful, cool, you might even say, cold, determination to preserve myself. And when the others came, I promised to protect them with the same ferocity no matter what the cost.

With that in mind, I stood sternly. To Hell with the Scientist and his skewed logic! With any luck, seeing what horrors the truth had done to my innocence, he would avoid telling the others what he had told me. When he abandoned me, my affiliation with him was severed. I would not carry out his will; I had my own. I faced the direction of the hollering human voices and I began to sneak toward them.

The Scientist was not my god and I was free.

Now all that was behind me; I was on to a new, hideous period of my life. The evil man and his soldiers had their shadowy hands around me from all sides and there was no way out.


	2. Mob Mentality

_Mob Mentality_

The world was all masonry and wood, dirt and rust, brown fabric and the pale, fleshy beings they enveloped. All the colors were metal: iron, brass, copper. I could smell little but gas from the brown, tan and black station wagons that occasionally clattered by. The first one I saw made me bolt; I happened to be in the middle of the road when it passed over me, enveloping me in stench and metal clattering. It was gray with wooden doors so to my inexperienced eye, it looked like the rest of the world. After my encounter with it, I stayed off to the side. I was nearly crushed again by a horse's hoofs and the narrow wheels of the carriage it was toting behind. It was then when I skirted the gray bricks and slabs of concrete that made of the houses to either side of the street. The bricks smelt like dirt and sediment; I liked the smell of them better than the concrete, which just smelled unnatural. I came across some discarded man things: a watch, a business card, a wallet with a photo of a young girl, a coin. I might have collected them, but I didn't realize at the time that I could have been my own storage unit. My middle created with nothing in it by my spine. I was hit with the instinct to store something, but I felt far too rushed to think of where so I left them alone.

While on the far left to the road, a small number of men and their mates passed me by. Clearly, they were of some sort of rank or upper class, since the gentlemen were clad in fine cotton blacks and browns with tall, plain top hats; the ladies were in ruffled dressed in any color from black to beige and in elaborate, often flowered or feathered, things on their heads. I froze like an animal when they were in my sight so they did not see me. I could feel they had something heavy on their minds that was distracting them from seeing the road ahead and me. It seemed they just wanted to get away. They didn't run off or even go briskly. What I understood was that whatever it was that frightened them they, for some reason, could not get away from it so all that was left was to accept it. I was discovered once, but only by a woman's greyhound who quickly let me be after his woman tugged his collar (and I swatted him on the nose when he backed me into a corner made by a stairwell).

I stayed scrunched up in the corner for a few minutes until I got the bad feeling again: that feeling of doom I had when the Chancellor came. I left the rich part of the city as briskly as I could. At one point, behind me I heard men's footfall stomping in turn. Luckily, I was swift enough to quickly have the marching get out of my range of hearing. I wasn't allowed to be spooked by it for too long before I heard a familiar sound again: the clamor of men's voices I had first noticed when the Scientist dropped me off. I could scarcely make out their chant. As I moved in, I saw them. Poor families all huddled together, throwing their hands into the air at a small group that was up on a makeshift podium. Even from there I could feel their intensity. Whatever they were demanding, they weren't prepared to give in until it was gotten; it was something to be admired. Against my better judgment, I moved in right amongst their warm, cotton-covered legs.

Weaving and squeezing, I went through ankles and over shoes. The gaggle was massive and that meant eyes were everywhere. If I had attempted to skirt the very tiny space between them and circle of houses around them, I would have been spotted for sure. Something in my gut just told me I did not want to be seen by humans – not one. I made my way up to the front of the rambling humans. The people were all too occupied on rallying to notice my soft feet (and occasionally hands and body) pass over them. That was until one woman scuffed her slipper away from me while I crawled over it, screaming, "Rat!" I sprinted away too fast for her to be able to spot her "rat". While she almost blew my cover, I briefly empathized with her. She was wary and uncomfortable, which was why she so sensitive to me passing. I knew she felt something heavy lingering over her just like I did; it was the marching again. It was following my path.

But you know what they say about curiosity.

I popped my head up in-between a father and son at the front and watched the podium people shout. It was very hard hearing them because near everyone in the crowd was chanting in turn. I didn't catch the exact words because their massive voices were harming my small ears, but it was something like, "Unite for peace. Tell our Chancellor to join the alliance." I couldn't make much out of it. Listening to those on the podium told me that their leader, this Chancellor, has apparently refused an alliance with other leaders. They insisted that uniting with those other leaders would be the only way to overcome the machines. So this was what the men had been freaked out about; they feared the rouge machines. When the Scientist told me, I had no idea how huge a threat they were to the world, but this certainly proved it.

I almost felt inclined to introduce myself to this wave of people because I so strongly agreed with them, but then something turned. The rally began to skew their message. What had started out as a reasonable protest started to turn violent. I felt myself jostled in the legs of the people like a raging storm. Yanking myself away from them, someone called out for the blood of the Chancellor. This peace rally was turning into a mob. They were all so scared and frustrated that when they were all put together they quickly became rash and arrogant. It disturbed me. What struck me even closer was that these were family groups. The children didn't understand and were turning fearful. Even some men and woman didn't find the turn comfortable.

The mass of humans started to twist and writhe. I eased further and further away from them, moving up the podium to the top where the seven or so ringmasters stood. Staying concealed slipped my mind for the moment. There must have been a thousand people in the cobblestone common area. What had once been a virtual forest of warmth and comfort for me had turned into a mess of browns, whites and blacks all topped with pale wrinkles of snarls, standing hair, the whites of eyes, long teeth and red gums. They became to push and lash out with fury, almost appearing to be fighting each other. I once caught in the grating circle of guttural howls that they were about to do something about the Chancellor themselves. Every now and then someone, usually a child, ran out from the mob to get away from all the sweaty bodies slamming against each other. Even those on the podium were becoming zealous. Their hard-soled shoes stamped down upon the flimsy wood until it snapped in half. I heard the crack and in an instant a claw of splintered wood shot up before me and the ground slipped away sideways. I was thrown onto my back and slid down where the men broke the podium and into the dirt. Bewildered for the moment, I scrambled to my feet and ran back toward the mass of people. Even though their stand was shattered, the podium people continued on their yelling as they had been. Dust was kicked up from their movement so I had a difficult time seeing.

After I stumbled away from the mob and turned around to watch them flail, I couldn't help but to feel responsible for the decline in intelligence. While I was standing on their feet, I felt as if I were a part of their group: even more than that. It was in my nature to believe that I was someone of rank within their gathering. Without me realizing it, my subconscious adopted the throng of humans as my own family. At that time, I was the only one of my kind and a desperately longed for the others so I took them as a placebo to fill the gap. I was not entirely delusional; I realized I was so small that I could do nothing to stop the rage.

Then I could hear it again: the marching.

Suppressing the urge to flee, I dug my feet into the ground as I saw a squall of men all clad in gray uniforms. They moved in unnatural lines, all together creating broad rectangles of gray. My eye caught a series of bright flashes. The sun reflected on the rods of shining metal that they all carried. I didn't like those at all. I felt my legs ache and turn weak, like I couldn't keep standing anymore. It was bad. Something very bad was about to happen.

_Run away. Run away_, I kept telling the mob in my head.

I didn't take my own order and neither did they. They mob all turned around to the gray men. It seemed to be what they wanted; they wanted a battle. I could feel the rotten electric stench of tension. The clusters all had their faces at one another. The younger ones let out noises to get out. Some of them could feel just what I felt:

_Please, no. Don't fight. Whatever you do, don't fight._

It started off with just a dozen. My head filled with popping and there was a burning smell. The brown cotton ripped and pale shards came out with a spatter of black. Then a short choke ending in a sudden cut off gag. Thud, ripple and then they were still. The first men had been shot.

A mere second of nothing was followed by the entire world running into itself. The mob lurched in two directions. One was all nails and teeth and threw their lives away trying to resist the steady stream of bullets that let out constantly in a horribly mechanical fashion. The others started to stampede in the opposite direction. The mob had lost all their ability to see, hear and smell. Those senseless with fear gaped open their mouths and craned their necks as they flailed, struggling and wailing to get away. Feet came down upon those unlucky enough to be heading in the opposite direction as the cluster around them: splatter, squash and crunch as they were forced into their painful deaths all over the stones. Constantly was the sound of pops to the ground as those shot and those tripped by the mob all fell into the ground. Nothing was in the heads of the men but to run but they were not unified in where to run. They clashed as they went into opposite directions creating blocks in the crowd of kicking, clawing, screeching, stuck bodies. This was how more trampling occurred. In bursts of human forms, some of them broke free to gain their goal. Every now and then a man with a gun was beaten by the oppressed and every now and then someone escaped alive, shrieking and grabbing at the air as if it would move them faster. But the children, oh the children, they stood little chance of breaking free of the mob that was packed together like stone. The shrieking, sometimes clogged with liquid, became constant.

My eyes remained fixed on the trampling and shooting until I heard something from a new street. It was more marching. I looked over there, but saw no gray men. What I saw drove me to run toward it. There was a small crowd of fleeing families heading for that street. The gray men were up there. Just to their right of the fleeing people was a safe path. I tried to warn them.

"That's the wrong path! This way is safe!"

But my voice still refused to agree with me. I didn't believe they could hear me, until a woman slowed to a stop and looked behind her with her wide, wary eyes. I remembered her – she was the one who felt me move over her feet. Her blue irises focused on me. The rest of the world went away and then it was just me and her. We stood in whiteness and quiet, communicating through the wind.

Her head was pulled foreword and her hair flopped over her face and then she recoiled. The blue eyes became glossed. Her body tilted foreword and then came down. Inches before me hit her head of brown hair, leaking black from the top. A shining lock came over my feet and her blood drained out from the hole in her head.

She was gone.

The world was back and the fleeing humans were scraping their feet on the ground to get away from the new line of gray gun-wielders. A child squealed like a swine to my right. I went with them to get away. The popping and smoke of the guns went on behind me as I bolted. A shadow swiftly covered me and then I saw stepped on.

My ears filled with ringing. I refused to stay down and harassed my throbbing legs to carry me on. My path was uncontrollable. I moved at random as the feet passed in what seemed to be a direction that always changed. The ringing became louder and then changed into the squeal of the child. It didn't stop. It went on unnaturally with no breaths or change in volume or pitch.

My head was playing tricks on me and made me stupid so I didn't even see the second foot coming. My spine bent to the shape of a cold, steel-toed boot. I went around in the air, making me sick to my stomach before the back of my head stopped dead on a concrete wall. My skull rippled from the place it hit and my felt electricity in my sinuses. Involuntarily, my body convulsed from the stock to my head. I still felt the flying even after I hit the wall. The squeal in my head faded in and out before the voice cracked and then went away with a defeated sigh. My grip on reality was slipping.

No longer able to hold it up, my head flopped onto my shoulder. My arms failed and I was on my side by the wall. My muscles stopped convulsing. After that went my eyes and then my hearing. All I was aware of was touch.

As if I were in a state of half-dream, I felt the cold cobbles below me jump off and become air. I was strung up by the ankle upside down. My arms fell down and my other leg folded up on my hip. My neck stretched. My jaw was held shut by gravity. Believing I was human, my mind gave me the sensation of sticky, warm blood falling down my throat and mouth: cold water from my eyes. Gravity turned around and pulled on my back as I was placed into a rough skin-covered hand. I could not control my body so my belly was flaccid and stunk in, and my jaw fell open. The fingers of the hand curled around me. It was all hot.

Then there was the open nothingness again.


	3. The Basement

_The Basement_

My thoughts came back at no defined time. I cannot tell when I started thinking again. It started off as just abstract sounds and sentences that I later thought to make no since. Then I began thinking intelligently while weaving in and out of the dream-speaking. Once I was finally in control of my thoughts, they were not peaceful for long. I remembered the massacre at the peace rally; those must have been the "black arms" the Scientist said were at the Chancellor's expense. They both wore the uniform gray with red. What good would come from silencing that particular group of people? It would be a waste of their guns. Unless they were speaking something he did not want to hear. Why should the Chancellor not beat them down? He most clearly has the power to.

I felt that I was laying on my back with my spine digging uncomfortably into a wooden surface and my limbs were all pushed away from each other. My body was still limp as if I were dead. Heat was on my front.

But why would any respectable leader want to destroy his lands? His kingdom was in pieces and all his people were so discontented I could literally feel it when I came close to them. He is going to need to fight these machines some time or another so why do I not see any perpetration? Those people should be put somewhere safe, not be killed. What good could come from shooting potential soldiers? This Chancellor was no king I aspired to become.

My thoughts scattered as my hearing came back. I could hear creatures far bigger than I shuffling about in small stone place. Metal things occasionally clanged on each other or something like glass. The feet were heavy like the marchers and scuffed around on a dirt floor covered with small rocks. Voices rose and fell every now and then. One had bad lungs and crackled hoarsely.

At the same time came the smells of the place. The first thing I noticed was the poisonous stench of smoke. It was a sort of smoke that I could not name at the time. Then was the smell of sweat. Two specific man smells hit me: ragged skin coated with dirt and alcohol on bad breath. I could smell some sort of food, meat and spices. The last scents I noticed were to very different varieties of smoke: one of them was from a burning fire and, though I could hardly detect it, the other from a gun.

Finally, my eyes opened and focused. Above me was a bright yellow lamp shining in my face and making me hot. It took me a while to be able to ignore the brightness of the lamp. Above me was a wood roof with huge, thick supports running across. Spires of wood ran down from the ceiling. The walls were made of normal rocks all plastered together. I could see the tops of stacks of boxes along with a few cans. A furnace was burning to keep the place warm. It was a trashy place, like the Scientist's workshop. But the smell of food that drifted around smelt delectable – worthy to be given to a king.

_I wish I had a stomach_, I thought as I turned my head away from the light.

When I turned my head, I could see one wall with boxes lining it. An elongated arch of a window was up very close to the ceiling. The yellow glow out outside came in from it and grass was blowing around. I was in a basement.

I flexed my front to get myself to sit up, but I didn't move. When I moved my hands to push, I found my wrists bound by poking rope. My ankles were tied as well. I was stretched out upon a wooden table. After tugging to free myself, I lifted my head as much as I could over my chest. Before me were five or so gray men, smoking cigars, sitting at a table with a light over it, enjoying a dinner. And in a chair separate from them was the Chancellor himself, dining on fine meat. Like that, my appetite was gone.

Had he seen me? I needed to hide: run. I pulled my legs but the tethers were firm and I could not pull free. I couldn't let him find me. What if he already knew I was there? He had to have, or I would not have been lying in the middle of a table, splayed there like an animal pelt. I squirmed my body around, twisting my spine. He was sitting only a few yards away.

One of his men looked at me with great pale eyes. I writhed move violently.

"It looks like it's working now," He said, "It looks as if it knows it's held down. Quite advanced – it must have been made by the enemy."

The Chancellor turned his ragged head toward me. His stare froze me with my back coiled and my eyes peering over my chest. He just grunted in acknowledgement and turned back to his supper. The tobacco smoke made by breathing irregular. The other men keep observing me while I wriggled desperately but the Chancellor let me be - at least until he had finished leisurely enjoying his meal.

Once he stood, the others were up as well and the all gathered round me, with him in the center. I curled my back and turned my head away, opening my eyes to the fullest. My limbs tried to curl in and the ropes became tight.

"What purpose do you think a machine like this serves, sir?" Asked one of his men.

I felt the Chancellor's tattered finger go under my back and make my torso stick out toward him. He felt along my spine and jabbed his fingertip into my pelvis. While he had his finger under me, he ran another finger down my front. He let it rest on my middle for a while, feeling as I hyperventilated. His finger slid out from under me in an instant and my back fell down onto the wood. He held my face with his thumb and index and made my head go left, right, up and down. Then he let me go, satisfied.

"What I can make of it," Said he "is that it must be some sort of spying drone. It appears to be disguised as a toy."

He bent toward me a bit more, looking troubled.

"Look at its chest," a gray man said.

"I see that. It looks to be breathing. I can't imagine why the machine would go through that kind of trouble for those mechanics. What kind of purpose would that serve? If it was powered by that somehow, then I would think it was a waste of-"

I found I could not control myself and let out a pitiful wail in desperation. My cursed voice still couldn't make the noise I wanted. What came out of me was a crackling high pitched squeal that should come out of no man.

"Free me!" I screeched.

"What was that?" Asked one of the gray men.

"Some sort of alarm," Answered the Chancellor coolly.

"Shouldn't we be concerned? What if its calling machines that are hidden here?"

"Hm."

He lifted a fist above me before one of his men broke in abruptly.

"Don't damage it. We still need to take a look at it."

The Chancellor's hand loosened and he placed it over my face as if he were smothering me. I had no real lungs so I did no need to breath to make a cry, but his hand certainly muffled me.

"The speaker's in its mouth. Stick a gag in there and let's open it up."

He gave off such a troubling heir that a dark study for weakness was just as much a part of his life as breathing and sleeping. He held me firm but didn't keep eye contact. He seemed detached, almost bored, with what he was doing. After he let me go a wad of cotton was jammed down my mouth and taped in place. I could still cry all I wanted, but the gag kept me from making enough sound to be heard. The Chancellor finally looked at me while his men picked up any amount of horrible equipment I could only assume they would've tortured me with. His gaze troubled me. He was thinking and his face gradually came closer. A finger pressed me in the chest hard and slid down to my groin.

The Chancellor became distracted when his men arrived back with a multitude of sharp things. As he leaned up, he removed his hand from me. He picked a tool and lifted it over the light and pressed it close to my chest. I held my breath as the men around him gathered closely in excitement. I was staring the Chancellor in the eye shaking my head desperately. After seeing me do this, he hesitated and pulled the knife away. I let out my breath and then sucked it back in when I saw the chiseled blade flying back down at me.

I screamed, twisted and crawled across the table. Then I stopped myself. I could move!

The Chancellor had cut my left side free with once swift, precise swing of the knife. Everyone's jaw hung loose, including mine, except the Chancellor's. He seemed to be the only one knowing what he wanted. With a turn of his mighty head, he looked to the men.

"My friends, you may leave this place now. I hope you enjoyed your dinner for it the last fine one we will know until this war is ours. Upstairs with the whole lot of you. Don't leave all at once – that's an order. It would draw too much attention to this place if you all went out. And try to keep a level head. You aren't in your ranks for nothing."

"What about the machine?" Asked one.

"I'll see he's attended to. Now go up and close the door behind, will you?"

Without so much as a word against his favor, the small group of men headed out, each one giving me a look as they passed. Their marching headed up the stairs and the door came shut. I heard the clomping of their crushing feet as they loitered upstairs.

I looked back at the stone-faced human. Barely even giving me an instant to think, he made a command quite clear;

"Turn over."

And before I knew what I was doing, my back was facing him and my face on the table. For a moment, my pride told me to flip right back around in defiance but then I realized that this huge man was best listened to. I felt a nail tap my upper back as if he were pointing to a spot on a map. He tapped me a couple times and grunted. His hand slid under me and fingers wrapped around, leaving my head and legs out. With a slash, the other two ropes were cut from me. He carefully stuck his pinky into my mouth and pulled the cotton out. A rank waft of meat, smoke and whisky hit my face as he sat and moved his eye close.

"You were one of those in that scientist's notes; what are you?"

I felt choked by his smell and then I tried to speak, but my voice betrayed me again. I couldn't form good words. Seeming to have no tolerance for this, his jolted his hand with me in it. My voice bubbled up again and this time his hold tightened into a fist around me, making me wheeze, and he slammed me into the table below. While I stupefied by the hit, he must have lifted me again, because then next thing I remember was his eyes again.

"The Scientist brought me life. I am a part of him but now I am free and I will not do his will," I told him, my voice was cleared but trembling.

"How?" Asked the polluted lungs.

I was quiet for a minute, trying to recall. I felt my ribs jabbed with singers as he tightened his grip on me, not prepared to wait.

"His machine – your machine: he-he used an odd-looking thing to put his energy into me, like he'd done with the mach-"

The table rammed into me again. I felt like I was surrounded in a cloak of needles, digging into my skin and lodging in my joints as they twisted round. Blinded with panic as I wailed and rolled over in his hand, he lifted me yet again to his dark eyes. My wits came back to me and I turned my head to look at him.

"He never told me anything about it."

"I-i-it was a round thing with etchings in it: brown and gold."

The Chancellor grunted musingly for some time, letting me get my bearings after being beat against the ground.

"I remember it now. He wrote about it. I went over his notes personally when we had them taken. I've no time to get it now, but it did say that he used it to give the computer intellect – a sort of uploading of memories onto it. No, not only memories, intelligence. It was given the brain of a human. No, not just any brain, that of a genius. And since the computer has been given an ability to learn, then it's not a wonder it seems to be predicting and conquering us," He rasped.

I jerked my head away from him as if that would do any good. His calculating mind disturbed me. He was no fool. Of course not, then how would he come to power? This man appeared to be a master the battleground: a master of fear and manipulation – manipulation using fear. That was why I answered and obeyed him. If I didn't, I feared the consequences. All this without him ever needing to tell me with words. Those in his presence must have felt just my size.

"I haven't heard anything about you in it. Why?"

"I-I-I c-can't answer that."

The table came at me. The fist around my narrow body came loose and pushed me against the cold wood. The man was leaning over me and pressed his massive weight down. The air was pushed out of me and I could feel my ribs bending in a strange stinging sore. My claws scrabbled the wood.

"Please. I can't. He told me nothing about those notes you have. I'm the very first of-"

"I know that. You have it written on you. Unless perhaps he was trying to throw me off…"

"I know as much as you," My voice started to shrill as my throat became knotted, "I've only been living for an hour, maybe less."

The weight came off but he still pressed me firm enough to prevent escape.

"Why were you created?"

"I can't-"

My throat closed as the poking hand crushed my lungs again.

"Wh-en 'he world is all dead," I gagged out as he let me speak again, "Me and my brothers will die and our energy will bring back life. That's all he told me. Please don't ask how. Because – my head – I can't think. I'm too scared. I can't remember – I really can't."

"Your fear should loosen your lips. Talk, damn you. Or calm down at least."

"N-no. I'm too scared. Fear makes me hold it in. It's all I can think to do. You kept hitting me and I'm so dizzy now. My head is foggy. I'm going blind. The black curtain - my head-. Then people all run but they beat themselves with their feet and ram themselves into pile. All the pink and the red inside is all over the ground. Squealing. N-no way out. No way out."

At that point in my relapse I could only lie and let out wretched shuttering breaths. The world outside my head was slowed and warped, like a bump or a pinch in a carpet in places. Luckily when the scares come on, I can pull myself back to the real world quite quickly. But the Chancellor, apparently not convinced my shell shock was genuine only kept me frozen like that for longer. I really can't remember exactly what he did. Whatever it was, it traumatized my skull and only made me more stupid. He was probably beating me on the table or crushing me. I remember him yelling in frustration but the words I can't recount. I likely wouldn't want to recount them anyway. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew I had to get out of the episode but the massive man harassing me kept me from getting out. After any amount of time, the Chancellor must have realized that, whether I was faking or not, he would get nothing out of me the way he was going.

As soon as he stopped doing whatever abusive things he was doing, the present world was easing its way back. I glided out of my head smoothly, leaving the past massacre behind me. I felt joyful that it was all done. That was until I tried to move. I was still in his hand.

The gravel and dried mud ground swung back and forth as his arm swayed at the hip. His fingers were around my midsection. I loathed the felling of being balanced on my stomach, but I would have taken it over having my aching rib cage touched. My calves and upper body hung down and swayed bonelessly. He was carrying me somewhere but I was far too happy to be out of the reds of the trampled humans in the past to be worried about that.

Up he lifted me.

_Clatter._

And into the weaved metal of a hanging rat cage with me.


End file.
